The Proposal
by Ravenclaw Red
Summary: Victory in his game meant nothing else but winning her heart. But every game has a price, and his intended thinks love is too risky a venture and she's not willing to bet more than she's willing to lose…


A/N: D: Oh gawd naw! A month or maybe more of being sick D: This is a gift for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle/Felling : D For being my 8th review for my other AC story and breaking off the lucky seven streak :3 I'm sorry it took so long buuuut here it is! And the good part? It will be a 4-5 shot...yes a 5 shot lol...so yeah, 4-5 chapters for you! I hope you like it D: I can't make it too complex or reveal too much or I'll go all exagerated and make it a full-blow complex story and rewrite this atw so yeah, enjoy guys!

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"They say he is a marvelous lover." Fleur, a widower from one of the soldiers that had fallen by the one of the Creed's swords and had been kindly taken in by their leader after Maria had personally assured him she would take care of her, was not very good at sounding casual.

Unable to ignore such a provocative comment from her friend, she shifted her stare from the gliding eagle who had been swaying between the stone walls of their city scrutinizing the land for prey to the man who had abruptly entered the building, his gaze stuck to the floor while he walked up the stairs and into one of the large chambers inside. She could see the shift of the people's mood as soon as he walked in, the glances of relief on his 'brother's' face as he watched him enter his room from a corner of the library bellow.

While she did know the handsome Assassin master and had known him for quite a while, she knew very about his reputation as lover. And cared very little about it, for that fact. He wasn't exactly the man she pictured in her bed; not when he had lost most of his luster during her two-year stay at the fortress. He wasn't exactly the picture of health this year, with the month-old beard that covered his haggard features and the hair he refused to trim with the excuse of having no time to take care of himself when he was taking care of his people. He looked like he wasn't getting much sleep, either, by the dark circles that made the muddy brown color of his eyes appear much darker. He was known to skip meals, which explained why his clothes were starting to hang off his once well-built frame, and when he did eat he did it in the privacy of his room.

He never spoke to any of the women, either, but they were clearly beyond smitten with him and more than willing to jump into his bed. She snorted, tilting her head up to find the eagle that had kept her busy while her friend chatted about this and that during the past hour. It seemed that his presence was welcomed by everyone in her new home but hers. The men respected him, placed him on a golden pedestal as if he was a living God. If he even set a foot outside of his room and into the grounds bellow he immediately became the focus of the bevy of exotic beauties who were all eager to attract his attention. Even her friend, who was often too shy and reserved for her own good around strangers, seemed to be quite taken with him.

"What makes him so special from the rest of the men in the city?" Nothing, in her opinion. He was flesh and muscle and bone, just like all of the assassin's. Just like her. While she wasn't too happy with his arrival, she was relieved to know that his mission had been successful. "Why do you mention it?"

Her friend smiled timidly, the white teeth gleaming as she played with the fruit she had been eating. "His skills as a lover, my Dear. They say he makes women weep with just a touch."

Unimpressed, Maria snorted disdainfully again while fingering the worn material of her gray Crusader's tunic. "Why in heaven's name is making a woman weep a good thing?"

Fleur answered her question with a musical laugh that had most of the men in the guild enthralled with her before patting her back as if she'd just made the funniest comment she'd ever heard. "Weep with pleasure, my Dear."

"Hm." She couldn't picture Altair with a woman. She didn't want to picture him pleasuring any woman either, much to her chagrin. The thought was discomforting and that made her shift uneasily on the edge of the tower where she sat. "I can't imagine."

Not only because she did not wish to, but because it disturbed her that he had amassed such a reputation and her friend had heard of it. From all the men she had met in her journey to foreign lands, Altair was the last one she had expected when it came to possessing the kind of reputation that would've made him a rake in her home town. Her eyes narrowed just as one hand rose to stroke her chin in thought. She wouldn't know much about rakes, since she had very little experience when it came to men. While she did want to gain some measure of experience she had no desire for it to be with her once traveling companion.

Not only did she have very little interest in him, but she was monitoring his friend and right hand man because he'd taken an interest in her friend and she had not intention of letting her woo the poor woman. Assassins didn't make the best of husbands and by losing an arm Malik had proven just how dangerous it was to be with a man like him. If they married, if they had children and then he suddenly died in combat, where would that leave Fleur? Where would that leave her? While she had a knack for disliking people for no reason, Malik was good to have around and she did like him...just not chasing after her only female friend. But Malik did have his purpose. He distracted Altair and he cooled his often scorching temper when it was needed. And he kept the man from pestering her whenever he had some time to spare.

It was her luck, she supposed. No matter how hard she tried to get rid of him, how many insults and venom she spewed at him, the man kept seeking her out. She wasn't sure if he was playing the martyr or he was one of those self-flagellating masochist, but he kept coming to her even when she had made it clear that, while he could be part of her life from now on, he was one part she would very much like to get rid of. He wasn't disappointed over the lack of enthusiasm, though. If she didn't know any better, her disdain over who he was and what he did had only strengthened his resolve when it came to her and the fact that Malik was trying to match them off only made matters worse for her.

No doubt that the man disapproved or her brazen resolve to steer clear and out of his way. While not actually pursuing her like a man smitten with a lover, he prowled after her with the ease of a predator that had just spotted an easy prey he could easily ensnare if he took his time. It was both irritating and annoying and she had spent the past couple of months avoiding any kind of contact with him. Besides, she didn't need or want a man like him as a potential mate anyways. Altair was critical and severely skeptical with almost everything and love was certainly something he wasn't after. Not that she was looking for love…

Still, just by looking at him it was easy to know why, she had no trouble understanding his cynical response to such a delicate subject. He was remarkably handsome but extremely proud; and his bearing was what was expected of an Assassin. Refined, a bit imperious and commanding but gentle and understanding when he needed to be, he was an ideal leader. She guessed that with the skills and power he now possessed he had the right to be as arrogant as he wished to be. That was the problem when it came to the way he dealt with her. Like the man was better than her, like she had to bow down to his every whim because he was her superior. But she had a temper and a fire and arrogance that rivaled his and she had too much of her father in her to just give in to his craven needs.

The fact that women said that he was wonderful lover had caught her by surprise, though.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Fleur as she continued her long speech and not-so-subtle hints about just why she thought that she should give the man a chance at winning her over. "I heard some of the light skirts about the terrace speaking of him. Assassins tend to be lonely, Maria. He's not the monster you make him to be."

"Why doesn't he have a wife, then?" There had to be some major flaw, something that explained why he was still alone if Fleur thought he personified perfection. "Why is he still parading about the land with no family of his own?"

"Death happened." The sentence caught her completely off guard. A frown slowly creased on her brow as she waited for her friend to go on. "Her name was…Ada, I believe. He chased after her even when the Templars took her, but by the time he reached the ship that had carried her off it was too late. You should not worry about that now. He can have his pick of the females."

"Then why is it he is so intent on _me_?!" Her fist slammed down against the mortar, sending waves of pains through her hands and forcing her to flex them instantly. The frown became more pronounced on her pale skin. "I want nothing to do with him!"

A knowing smile stretched over her friend's lips. "Maria, you are special to him. You are not meek and mild like most women and, compared to the rest of the female population here, you are an English rose growing in the mist of exotic blooms. If you have not noticed it yet, we are a bit of a feature in this land."

There her friend was wrong. While she was lighter skinned than most of the women, Fleur was a drop of sun in an otherwise dark land. She was tall but rounded in all the right places and posses long pale-golden hair that framed her delicate face. She was not really as tall as her friend, her eyes were the same rich brown color of her hair and while she did have some curves, they paled in comparison next to her friend's. She wasn't the feminine type either, preferring dirt, grime and war over the normal life of a housewife. Adventure, honor and glory had been her goals since early childhood and she had disenchanted her parents by refusing to be the proper lady that they had wanted her to be. It didn't help that of her three siblings she was the least likely to find a suitable husband in England.

"No one is forcing you to be with him, Maria. But I think you two would make a splendid couple." The gushing was abruptly cut off when footsteps echoed in one if the towers as someone made their way up the stairs that led to the secluded spot they often used as a safe haven for their conversations. Realizing they were probably fetching her, Fleur turned to Maria and rested her hand on her shoulder. "Let me offer you some words of advice: You should stop running. That only rouses the instinct to chase after prey, Dear."

"There is no need to worry about that." The wall of ice she often used to defend herself from the rest of the world made her words seem frosty, even though she appreciated her friend's worry "I have no intention of becoming any man's prey."

Maria turned around in the direction of the footsteps while making quick work of her hair, tying it neatly and away from her face while half expecting one of her fellow travel companions to fetch her. It was one of her companions, but not the one she had expected. Malik's face appeared as he made his way to the entrance of the tower to stare at her. He looked worn and tired and, like Altair, had been busy with plans that he'd had very little time to take care of himself. But unlike his leader, Malik usually kept to himself and strayed from the rest of the assassins and into the quiet of their extensive library. Seeing him in the tower was a pleasant surprise and spoke clearly of his intentions to change, not for her, but for Fleur.

"I wish to speak to you, Maria." That usually meant she was going to be sent somewhere….with Altair. Her lips compressed into a straight line, the muscles of her jaw tensing as she gnashed her teeth together. "I have a mission for you."

"As you wish." She cast her pretty companion an apologetic look and steeled her spine poker straight so she could walk past him without bashing his face in. She half expected him to smile grimly at her like he often did and chase after her to deal with the matter as quickly as possible. When he didn't…well, she had strong suspicion he was making eyes at his friend and she was returning the attention. "Imbecile."

"What was that?" He sounded a tad bit breathless when he rejoined her at the foot of the stairs. The expression on her face darkened a few notches and she opened her lips to reply something but realized that whatever was going on between them was probably better than what would be going on between her and Altair that afternoon.

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"Malik, you simply must stop this utterly shameful scheming of yours!" To make her point clear, she slammed her still aching hands on the desk where he now sat after stepping into the large library that had once served as Al Muhalim's private study. "It is foolish and mortifying!"

"In this case it was not my scheme, Maria." A faint smile stretching over his lips as he flipped through the pages of a dusty old tome, her tormentor didn't seem to mind how flustered she was becoming or the fact that it was because of his plans. "Altair himself insisted you join him for a ride to scan the premises."

"You cannot be serious!" When her lips parted in surprise the barely-there smile set on his lips grew into a knowing grin that made her already raw nerves tense under her clothes. "Don't play with me, knave! You know very well I don't like to be taken for a fool."

"Indeed." Another flip of a page with disinterest, but he kept his eyes fixed on the book and not on the fuming woman a few feet away from him. "There is no reason to be alarmed. I think you must already suspect that he is quite taken with you."

Her slender fingers curled into fists at her sides as she gnashed her teeth together again and glared at Malik. She had no idea why Altair would like to meet up with her specifically when he could've had any other member of his little guild and ride out to scan the land ahead of their home, but she certainly didn't want to see him again. Not after the disturbing conversation she had just had with Fleur. And most of her conversations with him circled around arguments and included an incident involving his crossbow and her favorite horse.

Yes, the mare was rather weathered and old, a birthday gift from her deceased commander from when she'd first joined the Crusaders, but that didn't mean she had wanted it dead. Especially not by his hand, since her leader's life had also been snubbed by the new master of the Creed. Maybe he just wished to apologize for the incident. It had been accidental, after all, not matter how hard she had tried at twisting it into something more sinister. Or maybe he had seen some logic in Malik's illogical plan to marry her off as if she was some prized heifer at a bazaar sale, God forbid.

She shuddered at the thought.

It was more likely, however, that Altair had disguised their meeting as a mission so she couldn't refuse his company. At least they would each have their own horse, reducing her chances of repeating the past deplorable surrender to his kisses if he made any attempt at courting her like Malik was suggesting. Even so, she wondered how she would manage during the ride. Altair was no expert at building polite conversation and she was as tender as barbed wire. Placing them together was like caging two large wild animals together and hoping that they wouldn't end up ripping each other to shreds. Her fingernails dug into the skin of her palms at the thought.

Temper suddenly flared like a clap of thunder, coursing like a hot flame inside her veins and all over her skin until it reached her dark eyes."If you think you can somehow manage to pair us up, your head must be full of sand!"

"Better than hot air, my friend." Malik sighed in discontent before closing the tome he had been using to avoid looking at her irritated and flushed face before waving her away like she was an insect who had been persistently pestering him since her arrival "You should go find Altair. He must already be waiting for you at the main gate."

"You-!" The flush deepened and extended to her ears, making the light skin sizzle in clear contrast to the chocolate brown hair she pinned into a bun most of the time so the tresses wouldn't bother her during battle or training. "This conversation is not over, do you understand me?"

"Of course it is not." Malik ran his hand through the patches of dark stubble that covered his face as he shook his head, lips still fashioned into the amused smile he always displayed when she argued endlessly with him. "I hope you have a pleasant ride."

The nerve of him, dismissing her like she was a child or a lowly beggar that had taken up too much of his time! Her lips parted with an acid reply but she decided to bite the bile down and save her harsh words for the man waiting for her at the gates...but that didn't mean she could not shoot a mild curse his way "Hell take you!"

His soft laughter was the last thing she needed at the moment, not when she felt like hell had attached itself to her and she was about to set it lose on half of the land."Good afternoon to you, too, Maria. Enjoy your ride."

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A/N: Like ze story? Needz da healz? Err, I meant, please review and leave your thoughts! : D


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